


La Morditita

by RosVailintin



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alpha Credence Barebone, Alpha Percival Graves, Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Real World, BDSM, Belleville, Belts, Blood, Boys in Chains, Credence is probably a bit younger than in the film, Daddy Kink, Escape, Français | French, Fuck Or Die, I'm Not Ashamed, Lap Sex, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Jim, POV Percival Graves, Paris (City), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, S&M, Second Person, Song Lyrics, Sorry Not Sorry, Violent Sex, and i love tokio hotel even though i don't speak german, beta Sebastian, by request, gradence plus mormor makes perfection, jeez im a tag wrangler and luk at this, la morditita by ricky martin is so cool btw, mormor is the background plot but for this work it's mostly gradence, uh ok technically there's still a plot, um yes by request AND!!! by the request of me lovely roommate, wtf am i tagging about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosVailintin/pseuds/RosVailintin
Summary: 'Come with me, Credence.' I whisper into your ear.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sszdyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sszdyl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Crystal Globe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343728) by [RosVailintin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosVailintin/pseuds/RosVailintin). 



> Okay right this work is a request from the loveliest [sszdyl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sszdyl) but okay actually I wanted to write a gradence pwp in the first place so...well whatever. And I'm writing this with French keyboard because I'm so used to it now I have so many typos when typing with English keyboard. But why do I say this. Well.  
> So gradence yes, this was at first just a gradence pwp and nothing else, and then me being me, I instinctively tried to come up with a plot and bang! I thought of our dear Mr Mysterious in [_Crystal Globe_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343728/) and there we go let's just suppose it's Credence because why not. And so this perfectly explains the bruises on the boy's body oh my. Uh is it right to say this here because it's spoiler. Oh no. Whatever. Okay but you don't have to read [_Crystal Globe_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343728/) to understand this work if you don't want to. And I'm using Irish keyboard instead of French keyboard because I can't type '<>' with French keyboard and I love Ireland way too much.  
>  And I'm gonna do something that's not really like me. I'm gonna write a bit Chinese okay. But just in notes right. 莫什的練習曲加上彩雲追月真是要死了好嗎 *是的我就是懶得去查翻譯. 嗯網少你的pwp在這裏. 我不會說我是考英語的時候寫完卷子突然覺得CG劇情和這個超級配的! 并且還shameless的記在了英語卷子背面 *facepalm*. 嗯還有, 小閃唱歌真的有毒. Okay so there will be some French because this whole thing happened in Belleville, Paris. And I don't mean to be so cruel to Credence okay I love him so much he needs a hug. A thousand hugs. Okay here we go. Enjoy!  
> Ah btw, the French translation of Credence Barebone is Croyance Bellebosse and the pronunciation is fab.

Die ganzen Sterne fehlen im schwarzen Sonnensystem.

\- Tokio Hotel·Sonnensystem

* * *

The moment I place my left hand on your lower back, you quiver.

'Come with me.' I whisper into your ear.

Your lips part a little, eyelashes trembling from, I don't know, the coldness of an October night or something else. Fear of what you're going to see? Fear of the uncertainty of what is going to happen to you?

This alley is like every little alley of Belleville on a rainy night, wet, dark, blurry. The clock has ticked 12, people are asleep. I know we're not the only ones out.

I lead you along the slippery stone road with my arm around your waist. You're shaking, still shaking, underneath this long black coat that doesn't suit you at all. You feel awkward being held like this, being so close to someone, being cared; you want to push away and cool down the blood rushing in your veins, but at the same time you press yourself against me. I observe you from the corner of my sight. You look so pale and so fragile under the dim moonlight that's almost completely shaded by the clouds; raindrops fall on your skin, drip from your lashes, your lips and the tip of your nose, slide down from your cheeks, leaving shiny traces that draw the outline of your delicate visage. You seem to feel my stare, giving me ginger glances behind your wet eyelashes, head bending even lower.

Then you hear the noise. The moans that sound almost like screams, the shouting and cheering in French from the little crowd. Your grip tightens on my scarf. You're trying to fight against the force I put against your back that's pushing you towards where the noises come from, and you begin to shiver more violently.

'Go.' I purr beside your ear.

You may be mumbling something like 'no', but never make it clear enough for me to distinguish a word. 'I said GO,' I repeat, 'it's an order.'

'Allez! Plus vite!' The shouting gets louder and clearer. There you are.

'Tu viens pas encore?' The man pants, 'Regarde ta bite...'

People are laughing and talking.

You refuse to look up. The blush on your cheeks has turned so deep that it looks out of place.

'Watch.' I scold in a low voice, holding your chin up. A drop of tear runs down your face.

A blindfolded boy is being pinned against the rough wet wall, all naked, the knot of the man in that white tee inside his arse. The man whispers something in his ear before exclaiming, 'Tu peux rien faire!' What follows is loud laughing from the audience. The man guffaws, roars, speeding up; the boy is screaming helplessly with every thrust, his voice already broken. He comes again and again, ejaculating white liquid everywhere until drained.

People are cheering so loudly.

'Why...' I hear you say, weak and frightened.

'Don't ask.'

You go silent. 'Yes, sir.' After a few seconds, you murmur.

The boy gets slapped in the face. 'Chienne! Bâtard!' The man shouts, dropping the boy on the ground before flipping him over. You shiver with every whimper the boy makes. He's pushed up against the wall again, back towards the crowd. You lower your head.

The man is pumping his knot into the boy more and more roughly. You slowly take a step back, hiding yourself in the narrow darkness between the damp brick walls.

'What? You're scared?' I turn to stand in front you, seeking for eye contact.

You stumble back. My shadow casts over your face; I can't see your expression well, but something brilliant slides down your angular cheeks, reflecting the light behind us.

I drag you aside and turn into another alley. 'Hmm?' I block your sight, making you press your body harder against the wall. You don't dare look at me; your lips are tense, eyelashes trembling.

'Credence...' I place my left hand on your chest; there lays the symbol of the Deathly Hallow. Dark mass begins to rise around you. 'Control,' I whisper beside your ear, biting into the soft skin of your neck, 'I know you can.'

You start weeping, moaning with that cracked little voice as my teeth leave red, crescent-shaped marks along the side of the jumping artery. I run my right hand over the bricks of the wall, and then slide the cold, wet palm beneath your thin shirt. Your skin is smooth and warm; my fingers trace down the border of your scapula, every inch I go you become a little tenser. I move my left hand to unbutton your vest, and you immediately blush, your breath shaky and messy. My body is so close to yours that you desperately try to push me away but there's barely a gap between us for you to place a hand. Your fingers eventually land on the wall behind you, your nails sinking into the gaps between the bricks.

I loosen your tie and go for the buttons of your shirt. You haven't yet given up on the protest, trembling and struggling to get rid of my touch, making your coat and vest fall off your shoulders. Coldness of midnight soaks into your bones, making goosebumps appear all over your bare skin. I run a finger over the fabric of your half-unbuttoned shirt, expecting to feel you quiver underneath the caress; your nipples are hard, the shape and sweet rosy colour clearly visible through the worn cloth.

'Are we...don't...' You plead with sobs, shoulders shaking.

'What did I tell you?' I leave a scratch on your naked chest, causing a painful whimper.

'Please...please d-don't, sir...' You slowly turn away, 'It's...I...'

I free my right hand to grab the bun at your crotch. 'Uh...' An uncontrolled moan slips from your lips. You're hard. I raise an eyebrow.

'Don't hold back, Credence,' I draw circles around your erection, 'for me.'

The darkness inside you has caged us. I tease with your bump, carefully making sure that you don't come inside the pants, enjoying every little sound you make that you try so hard to keep down. My fingers dance upwards to the buckle-clamp of your belt. This action is like electric shock to you; you suddenly catch my wrist with incredible force, and the dark mass around you is gathering and rising. I have to step back, but you refuse to let go. 'Please...' You try to keep your breath smooth. I don't even know whether you're begging me not to whip you or not to leave. 'Please, don't...please...' You're still weeping, mumbling words between gasps. Your grip is gradually loosened around my wrist, and where you've touched is pale.

I use my left hand to cup your face. 'Take it off.'

You let go of me. You stop pleading. All that's left is the trembling and the gracefully shifting black mass around us. You stay there like this for several seconds; these words are like a curse to you, reminding you of all the fears, fear of the woman whom you call Ma, fear of people's comments, fear of yourself. You softly, slowly shake you head, your eyelashes wet with tears.

'I'm not asking for your agreement, Credence. Do as I say,' I seize your hand and place it on the buckle-clamp, 'take it off.'

I slide one leg between your laps and thrust upwards. 'Ugh -' You almost loose your balance, both hands grabbing my shoulders to keep yourself up. I quickly unbuckle your belt and pull it out. 'Show me your hands.' I purr into your ear with a lick around the auricle. Your shaky hands appear in my sight, the scars of the tortures still clear. I take them in mine and settle them on your butt before wrapping the belt around your waist and arms tightly. You groan softly, peeking at me behind those long, dark lashes. There's desire in your eyes.

I press my body against yours, biting your neck till I taste blood. 'No...sir, please...uh...' Your breath is a lovely mess with uncontrollable moans, gasps and whimpers. You're wriggling awkwardly, not knowing how to proceed. I feel you getting harder under the constant caressing of my leg beneath your balls; I unzip my own trousers and squeeze my leaking cock into the gap between your tense laps, keeping a distance from your bollocks so that I won't easily make you come. I put my hands on yours, guiding the movement of your fingers to make you press your entrance. 'P-please...no - ugh...daddy, don't...' Your head is thrown backwards, revealing a perfect jaw line, flawless skin and violently pumping veins. All these are unknown to you before, and you're ashamed to admit that you want it, that you're wanting more. Your laps clamp together tighter as I shove in faster; lustful sounds filled the space between the high walls. The Obscurius has gone wild.

My cock twitches, and white, sticky liquid flows down and soaks into your trousers.

I pull out and get myself tidy. My come is streaming down between your legs. There's a deep blush from your chest to your cheeks, and you bite your lips. The dark mass slowly gets back inside you.

'Say you enjoyed it.' I play with your nipples.

'Uh...' You're so sensitive to the little touches; you can't even form a complete sentence with this tiny bit of distraction.

'Say you enjoyed it!' I scold in a deep voice, giving one of your nipples a pinch.

You gasp from the sudden stimulation. 'Yes, sir -'

'Say daddy.'

You glance at me with shame and confusion.

'You called me daddy just now. Say that again,' My fingers move up to your clavicles, 'I like it.'

You hesitate for a while before softly going, 'Yes, d-daddy. I...I...e-enjoyed it...'

'You want more?' I place my right hand over your crotch again and give it a teasing little squeeze. An embarrassed groan escapes.

You avoid my eyes, lips slightly parted. I can hear you panting softly; they've been done with the omega boy and have left, and it's quiet around. He is still on your mind. Of course he is, that sight, those sounds, everything that happened, they're all new and strange to you. 'How long has that woman controlled you...' I caress your cheeks; the traces of tears have almost dried.

Your breath in, lips moving, but nothing comes out.

'Let it out,' My fingers run across your lips, 'what do you wanna say?'

You seem to know too that I've read your mind. You suddenly become tense and nervous, shaking your head frantically. The dark mass is aroused again. I catch your chin and force our eyes to meet. 'You're thinking of him; I know that, and you know that too, Credence.' I wrap my arms around you to unbuckle the belt. I twine it loosely around my left wrist.

'Come with me.' I help you put your coat back on and place my right hand on your lower back.

'Where are you taking me?' You finally ask, hesitatingly.

I look into your eyes, 'It's "Where are we going?", Credence,' I hold you tighter, feeling the slight shiver, 'and I'm not telling you the answer.'

Your throat makes a little grumble. Your body is tense the whole time, and even though you do your best not to sob, the little awkward noises sound so clear and loud in the silence. Your tie is hanging loosely around your neck, the first two buttons of your messy shirt undone, showing the skinny chest. My hand slip downwards to your thigh.

'Mr Graves...' You whisper nervously.

'We're almost there.' I already see the graffiti painted on the wall. Two magpies, two crossed guns, a skull in the middle, and a rose.

We go through the wall into a bedroom-like cell. The ceiling is low with an old chandelier hanging down from the centre, mildews and stains spread from the base of the walls, the dust on the wooden floor making noises like pen scribbling on a stone. The bed is at one corner and covered with simple white sheet, a white pillow and white quilt. There's no window, and the only old wooden door is shut.

You take a step back.

'No, stay where you are.' I raise an eyebrow.

You stand, staring at the ground. I shrug off my overcoat and hang it at the end of the bed with the scarf, then slowly walk towards you, taking my time to appreciate your fragile look. I take off your coat and hand it on the back of the chair beside the door. You watch me return and set my fingers on the top button of your vest, and you grab my wrists.

'M-Mr Graves...' You attempt to pull my hands off you, '...please, sir, I -'

'Shh...' I breath out just an inch away from your lips. You shiver, your grip loosened.

'Good boy.' I unbutton your vest, fold it and place it on the chair. When I come back again, you lower your head, your hands awkwardly hanging down. I pull off your tie and strip your shirt, completely revealing your upper body which makes you gasp and blush. Goosebumps appear due to the sudden exposure, and your nipples get hard and pinker. I turn around and walk to the chair to put the shirt and tie away. Without the belt which is still around my left wrist, it's a lot easier to deal with your trousers and let show your pants and the bun at the crotch. I'm honestly a little surprised to find that you're already kind of hard. I glance up at you, pressing my palm against it.

You immediately quiver at the touch and stumble backwards, but you trip yourself and fall on your back onto the bed. You're flustered, hurrying to sit up and move to the end of the bed, both hands on the wrinkled sheet. You peek at me under your lashes, frightened.

'Lie down.' I sit on the edge of the bed, scanning every inch of your skin. Although I can't see, I know how many and where you've got the scars on your back, old ones that have turned brown and new ones that are still red and blue. You shakily do as I say, ribs showing as you lie flat.

'Put your hands up.' I take off my shoes and climb onto the bed. You stare blankly at my half-open collar with wide eyes. I kneel down on top of you with your thighs between my knees and slip off the belt.

Tears finally flow out from your eyes. 'Mr Graves...' You try to hold back the sobs and form complete words, 'Please don't...please...' Your entire body is trembling uncontrollably; the bump beneath your underwear is semi-hard but still slightly quivering with the movement.

I hold your both wrists in my left hand and tie them on the head of the bed with the belt. You lick and bite your lower lip as I click the buckle-clamp.

'Have a good night's sleep, Credence.' I whisper into your ear. Your heat is very near, both you and I are clearly aware of this. I put on my shoes, gather my scarf and coat, and take your clothes on the chair too before shutting the old wooden door behind me.

The omega boy's heat is very possibly arriving tomorrow as well. He's been a target for long, the target of the guy who arranged all this. Yes, there's a plan. The man raping him, you watching it, and me being here, are all in the plan. Only the your heats are not, but now they're in control as well.

At around 4:00 in the morning, I hear noises from the cell. You're stretching the belt, struggling to get your hands free, and whimpering and moaning at the pain. I feel my skin burning only listening to the sounds you make.

Before others break in, I decide to open the door. Dark mass surrounds you. You're wiggling on the bed, your back arching up, toes scratching the sheet, desperately trying to rub your sticking out cock with the inner side of your laps. Your skin is rosy, the veins on your neck and chest and popping up. Your short is already soaked with pre-come.

I run my thumb through your parted lips, and you let out a hot groan. Your eyes are watery, lashes shivering. I untie your wrists from the bed but do not release them. I grab your hands in mine to stop you from touching yourself, but as it's your first heat, you're rejecting so strongly that I almost fall. I seize your left upper arm and pull you up. You're panting, almost exhausted with the unfulfillable desire.

'On your feet, Credence.' I exhale a whisper beside your blushed cheek.

You struggle to keep the balance. I place my free hand at your small and pin you on the wall beside the bed, your back towards me. I caress the scars along your spine, biting the warm, soft skin at the base of your neck. Your breath is a complete mess, the moans constantly interrupted by gasps and whimpers. You frictions your body against the rough surface of the wall, trying to soothe the fire inside you with the pain of the bruises left on your chest and knees. I clutch your tense butts and dig my teeth into the flesh of your shoulders and neck. You cry out shakily, mumbling things I can't distinguish.

The shifty black mass is getting weak, and I gradually release my grip on your arm and let you fall down on your knees. You're totally out of breath but still aroused. I step back and put my hand on the door. 

'Oh yes, Credence,' I turn around, 'they will take you out and will make you do things. They'll speak French.'

I don't quite care whether you've been listening to me or not. I disappear behind the heavy door and quickly get myself done in the dark bathroom.

It is around 6:00 when the door is opened again.

'C'est Croyance Bellebosse?' Smirks Charles.

You're silent. They probably tie you up and carry you out, I'm not risking revealing myself to watch. I know they will be taking you to the cell in the centre, and there chained up the omega boy.

His name is Jim. People call him by many names, but he's still Jim and I know that.

'Allez, allez, vite!' Far away, I hear the door slammed open.

The tingling of the chains echoes between walls, regular, fast, forceful. It's like an alarm that calls nonstop.

Well, it will be.

When the clock ticks eight, a crack breaks the wall beside me, thin and sharp like a scratch.

'Credence...'

It's like just in a blink's time that everything turns to dust. Jim is gone, and it's just you there, in the core of the dark mass. You see me.

The chains are fine, just unlocked.

'What did he do...' I slowly walk through the ruins towards you.

You're not putting down the defence. You can kill me right now, and I'm still getting closer. I may be mad, really mad, but everytime I see you so fragile yet still so defensive, my blood burns. Yes, I admit, this is madness.

They're gone or dead, I don't know and don't really care. I've got too close you have to draw back the Obscurius. They've stripped the last clothing you had and now you're all naked in front of me, the tip of your cock still leaking. There are tears in your eyes and dried traces across your face, your lips bruised and swallowed. The chains are set up off the ground and I take them down.

You seem to know what's happening next and try to find a way to run.

'You know you can't, Credence.'

I bite onto your lower lip and let the blood stream down my throat. Your cry of pain get vanished. My hands catch the handcuffs on chains and lock your wrists up on the remaining wall behind you, and wrap the rest around your chest, waist and legs. They're so heavy that your knees almost give in, and half of your weight is leaning on me. I run my tongue down your jaw line and neck to your red, wounded nipples. You can barely stand on your feet, holding on to the handcuffs around your wrists to stay up straight. Your breath is wet and loud like moans, messy and trembling. I taste every chafe on you that gives proof to the tortures just now. My tongue circles your delicate belly button and goes down. You begin to squirm, your shaft swaying with you and slapping me in the face.

I get up, take out the belt and throw the end of it towards the inner side of your thighs. Your hands clutch into fists and you bite your lower lip, causing more blood to come out, some dropping onto the chains and onto the floor. I grab your length and stroke rapidly, making sticky white sperm spew out all over your chest, belly and laps. I dip some on your pubic hair with the tip of my index finger, 'Taste yourself, Credence.'

'Ngh...' You blush and groan as I push my finger into your mouth. I withdraw my saliva-covered finger and peel off my own clothes. 'Mr Graves...' Your voice is barely hearable. I remove the chains on your legs and feet and take two fistfuls of your soft butt cheeks. You gasp, eyes shut. I lift you up to reveal your needy hole and thrust my knot in. You scream desperately, struggling trying to get rid of either me or the chains but both in vain, and in your screams there are words I can't recognise. Your entrance is red and swallowed, and it's so warm and tight inside that I almost come the moment I penetrate. The chains make it difficult for you to keep up with my pace but I'm not slowing down, leaving you exhausted and nearly blacking out. You pleas and moans are only taking me higher.

I tie the belt around your hardened dick and hold the buckle-clamp in my left hand, my right hand keeping you up. I bet nothing even a wee bit like this has ever happened to you for that you stare at my actions with wide, watery eyes, your lips parted and quivering.

'Come with me, Credence.' I whisper beside your ear.

I speed up with each time deeper, and my left hand tightens the belt around your cock. Your breath is not even steady enough to release a complete whimper and for a moment I'm afraid that you chokes. You come so violently, your cock twitching and making me drop the belt. I get over the edge soon after, letting out hot liquid inside you, my knot gradually shrinking back to its normal. You lay all your weight on me, your knees trembling as I put you down.

The welts on the inner side of your thighs are scarlet.

I release the handcuffs from the wall, and you drop to the floor like paralysed. Before you struggle to stand up, I stuff my humid dick into your mouth and bury my fingers in your hair.

'Ngh...'

'Lick me off.'

Your soft tongue clumsily covers my tip, making me want to come again, your chin rubbing against my balls. This feeling is all unknown to you, and you don't even know how to breathe with a dick in your mouth. Your face is turning pale with the lack of oxygen, and the heavy chains are exhausting your last bit of energy. I thrust in for one last time before pulling out and stroking a few times to get myself over the edge. Milky sperm fall onto your face and chest like raindrops.

I clean myself, pull off your chains, and put my clothes back on.

People have begun to flow in to see what happened. There are few serious people in Belleville, and now most of the audience are setting their eyes on you. You drop your head and turn away, hiding your blushed face. Still, I see tears streaming down.

The black mass is rising again.

I push you at the chest and pin you down. I lift up your right leg, revealing the mark left by the belt, and push the middle finger into the entrance. You're almost just moving under unconsciousness, releasing weak, painful moans. The Obscurius has formed a smoke-like wall around us. My movements are slower than previous, but it's still taking all you have to catch up with the rhythm. The sensitive skin on your back rubs against the floor covered with dust and crushed stones and bricks, and new traces of tears flow on old, dried ones.

People aren't really cheering so loudly, which is a good thing. I enter my index finger. 'Ah -' You cry out with husky gasps, your back arching up. I shove in fast, the muscles on my arm clear. I throw your leg on my left shoulder and press my left hand on your chest. You grumble from the pain of my palm on your bruises. I see more and more people gathering around us, some shouting, 'Un de plus!' You look up at me with blurry eyes, pleading for a break. I thrust in the ring finger. You have given up on keeping up to my pace, and your cock is waving in the air, hard, red and twitching. As I eventually add to four fingers, you cannot ejaculate anything but some sticky clear liquid.

'Go, Credence.' I withdraw my fingers and stand up. You're still panting, lying on the ground, wasted.

I turn around and walk through the pieces of stones and bricks. Sun pierces in.

I turn my back to the light and disappear in the shadow.

Dark mass rises behind me.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I say I really love the translation of _Sonnensystem_? I mean, it's literally _Solar System_ but the actual title of the English version is _Darkside Of The Sun_ isn't this beautiful!  
>  Okay I'll explain the other people mentioned. The guy who made the plan is Sebastian Moran yes ofc. On the white tee of the raper, there's the same code as the one painted on the wall, and it's the code of the gang. The omega boy who got raped is Jim Moriarty (sorry sorry sorry!). Charles is Charles Augustus Magnusson, the villain in Sherlock S3E3.  
> So um...is there a plot? Okay well. Anyways Jim got out and Credence will not be seen again in Crystal Globe. Don't ask me where everyone else is. It's initially just a pwp so yeah, fuck off logic.  
> Uh... that's it, a very late happy Xmas and an early happy New Year and a probably way too early happy Spring Festival bc I can't stay till Spring Festival in China. Well. Hope you enjoyed it! Oh and 3 days to Sherlock S4 and 4 days to Shadowhunters S2!! Hoorayyyy!!


End file.
